Today's post will require a little bit of imaginative effort on your part, readers. So, I hope you'll humor me on this one. Imagine for a moment that you've been diagnosed with a very rare, very swiftly acting terminal illness (think Gwyneth Paltrow in Contagion). There is only one doctor in the world that has the skills and resources to save your life. What lengths would you go to to get this doctor at your bedside? Now pretend it's not you with the illness, but someone you love dearly - your spouse, parent, best friend, or child. How much money would you be willing to pay, how many miles would you be willing to travel, what possessions would you be willing to give up for the assurance that this person could receive the treatment they require and survive? What is the value of that human life to you? I'm guessing you don't need long to think about this one. You're thinking, "obviously the life of someone I love is worth more than anything to me - more than any monetary amount, physical possession, or personal hardship I must undergo". Good. Now, add one more twist to this scenario. Imagine that the ailing individual is someone you've never met. What is the value of a stranger's life?
Lately I've begun investing my time in a local pregnancy crisis center. The center is a place where women facing an unplanned pregnancy can come for pregnancy testing, resources, and counseling. When I'm there, I am reminded of the immense, immeasurable value of human life. The women I've met there devote each and every day of their existence to promoting human life in its various forms and stages - the life of little ones still inside the womb, the life of the anxious mama who didn't plan to carry such a load at this time, and the life of the crushed woman who decided not to continue her pregnancy. Even the life of a young seminary graduate still trying to figure out her role to play in the "real world". It's challenging to witness a community that is willing to pay any price in any currency of money, time, energy, or resources to promote life. Particularly, the lives of those they haven't even met.
So, these days I've been asking myself, "what does the way I live my life say about the value I place on other people?" Loved ones and strangers alike. I'm no Mother Theresa. I'm probably not even a regular Patch Adams. The harsh reality we all must face is that we make choices every single day that say something profound about our hearts toward others. These choices reflect our priorities, our convictions, and our beliefs about the inherent value of ourselves, and of others. In my life, it frequently plays out like this: I'm worth another Caramel Macchiato at Starbucks, but the guy who cuts me off in the parking lot is not worth the ounce of grace it would require of me not to honk the horn. I'll probably even honk it twice to ensure I win the last say in this battle, as if my blaring horn can communicate a final, "so there!"
I'm working on it, okay? And, in full acceptance of my own personal failure, I am so relieved to relay the message that someone bigger than you and me has already issued the final decree on my value and yours. That's right, we've all got a price tag pinned to our ears. Thank God (literally) that someone decided that we were of the utmost value, in the moments we do and don't treat each other like this is true. Jesus Christ paid for the price for our lives at the cost of his. We didn't even need to exist before he decided our lives were worth all he had. And it's a sweet reality to know that there's not a single one of us who could lie on our virus ridden deathbed, looking as horrific and infected as Gwyneth, that Christ wouldn't be willing to pay any price to save. He already did just that when he found us in the filth and foulness of our disobedience and died so that we could be pulled from it. It's a great thing to feel valued. And it's an amazing thing that God has told us we're worth any price.
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